


Look At Me

by sparksfly7



Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, kim wooseok is taking over my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 22:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20454599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparksfly7/pseuds/sparksfly7
Summary: When Wooseok asks him if they could talk, Seungyoun doesn’t think much about it, until Wooseok pinches his lips and says, staring somewhere past him, “That move you did in U Got It.”





	Look At Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this legendary SeungSeok moment](https://twitter.com/X1scent/status/1166325686862147584?s=20) during their debut con U Got It performance. The title is from U Got It as well.

When Wooseok asks him if they could talk, Seungyoun doesn’t think much about it, until Wooseok pinches his lips and says, staring somewhere past him, “That move you did in U Got It.”

Seungyoun tries very hard to keep his voice calm. “What about it?”

“Why did you do that.” Wooseok’s voice is small and he won’t meet Seungyoun’s eyes.

“Because…” Seungyoun scrambles to think of a reason other than _because you looked so good and I couldn’t resist_ or _because I’m in love with you_. “Because that’s just what we do? For the fans. I mean, they loved it, didn’t you hear the screams?”

“Oh. So it was fanservice.” Wooseok’s voice is very flat. Seungyoun can’t read it, but he can tell it’s not happy. Wooseok’s not happy.

Seungyoun can only think to say, “I won’t do it again if you don’t like it.”

Wooseok raises his head, his eyes flashing, and even though he’s about half a head shorter, Seungyoun finds himself taking a step back, something telling him: _danger, beware._ “If I don’t like it? I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

Seungyoun’s throat goes dry. “Y-you did?”

“Yeah,” Wooseok says, with a mirthless chuckle. “You don’t know how many times I imagined something like that happening. But not for the cameras, not for the fans.”

“Wooseok—”

“It’s okay.” Wooseok lowers his head again. “I understand. And you can do something like that again if you want. It makes One Its happy. And I want them to be happy.”

Of course he does. He’s always prioritized other people’s happiness over his own. Put them over himself.

“I want _you_ to be happy,” Seungyoun says helplessly.

“I am happy.” It sounds honest, at least.

“Good.” Seungyoun tries hard to collect his thoughts, to put them into words. He’s better at writing them down, and god knows that he wants to write songs about Wooseok, has started countless ones when he meant to do other projects, scribbles on the margins of notebooks and even on napkins that he couldn’t bear to throw away afterwards, Wooseok engraining himself into the minutiae of his life. “I want you to be happy with me. Because of me.”

“You do make me happy,” Wooseok says slowly.

“Wooseok. Look at me?” As Seungyoun says it, he remembers those are the words he sang in the performance, except he dares not touch Wooseok now.

Wooseok raises his head. His jaw is clenched and his gaze is dark, a storm brewing in his features.

“That shirt,” Seungyoun blurts out. “It was horrible seeing you in that shirt.”

Wooseok just looks confused now. “What was wrong with my shirt?”

“It’s—everything. Your shirt and your choker and your hair and your goddamn face.”

Slowly, Wooseok starts to smile. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Your face,” Seungyoun says insistently, like he’s making a point, and reaches out to cup said face. Wooseok’s eyes flutter shut and he leans forward and tilts his head up, and Seungyoun somehow conjures up enough mental capacity to make himself move as he presses their lips together.

“You didn’t make it easy for me either,” Wooseok says, later, curled up against Seungyoun like a cat seeking warmth.

Seungyoun’s arm tightens around him. “What?”

“You. In the performance. With your—all of that.” Wooseok waves a hand as if encompassing Seungyoun’s existence. “Thank god they didn’t give Hangyul’s shirt to you.”

“I can always ask him for it later,” Seungyoun says, and almost misses Wooseok’s brief pout. He can’t help but laugh. “Are you jealous of me and Hangyul?”

“No,” Wooseok says forcefully. A little too forcefully.

“Okay, if you’re going to be jealous of me and Hangyul, then I should be jealous of you and Jinhyuk. You have years of history I can’t even start to catch up on.”

“Jinhyuk is very important to me,” Wooseok says. “He always will be. But he’s like a brother to me. You’re…not.” He suddenly narrows his eyes. “I can see you’re going to make some weird joke, so stop it.”

Seungyoun obediently pretends to zip his mouth shut, and Wooseok’s eyes crinkle in the way they do when he’s trying to hold back a laugh, any hint of a storm gone in his face, the thunderclouds making way.

“You don’t have anyone to catch up to, Seungyoun,” Wooseok says seriously. “It’s not a race, right? Not a competition, anymore. We’re walking together now. Side by side.” He holds out a hand, an offering, an invitation.

Seungyoun swallows, thinking about everything he’s endured, everything that led him to this moment. At one point, he thought that he might as well just give up, that there was nothing brighter waiting for him at the end of this dark tunnel, but.

But.

Here are ten others to face the future with him, here is a group he didn’t think he’d get to be a part of, here is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen holding out his hand for Seungyoun to take, not merely as a friend or bandmate but someone who’s stared into the same abyss as him and come out stronger for it.

Slowly but surely, Seungyoun reaches out and takes Wooseok’s hand.

“I didn’t do it for the fans, you know,” Seungyoun says. “It was never about them, never about the cameras or the performance or anything else. It was just about you.” _It’s always been you._

Wooseok makes a humming sound. “Me and my choker?” he says, definitely teasing now.

Seungyoun tips his finger under Wooseok’s chin and turns Wooseok towards him the way he had in the performance, only this time Wooseok doesn’t break away to do that head spinning, neck rolling move, (goddamn him, even after being taken off guard, he knew what to do to drive people crazy), instead fixing his eyes on Seungyoun like there’s nothing better to look at.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Seungyoun says quietly, “and I want to be one of the reasons for your happiness. That’s what I meant earlier.”

“You are, Seungyoun,” Wooseok says, smiling. His expression like the sun, and Seungyoun is helplessly caught in his orbit. “You are.”

“Are you going to do it again, do you think?” Wooseok asks thoughtfully.

“What?”

“The U Got It move.” It’s amazing how different this conversation is from their first one. Seungyoun was haunted with regret at his impulsive action, but now he’s grateful that it was the catalyst to this, a careless interruption in an over-careful life.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Hm. I don’t know. Maybe you can do something a little different, shake things up a bit, take people by surprise.”

“Should I take you by surprise too?” Seungyoun asks. “Not that people could even tell, really, by your reaction.”

“You liked my reaction,” Wooseok says, unabashedly smug. “What did you say – ‘my goddamn face’ got to you?”

“Shut up,” Seungyoun mutters, but can’t manage to make it sound convincing, especially when Wooseok laughs like that.

“It’s okay,” Wooseok says, looking at him from under his lashes. “You get to me too. You got it.”

Seungyoun is torn between laughing and groaning. “You’re so—”

“So?” Wooseok prompts, almost like a challenge, the corner of his mouth curling up into a cat-like smirk.

Once again, Seungyoun puts a finger under Wooseok’s chin and brings his face closer, but this time he doesn’t say anything, just looks at him and drinks everything in: this moment, this motion, this man.

“Wooseok,” Seungyoun sighs, and lets his head drop against Wooseok’s, face pressing against his hair, both a question and an answer.

Wooseok rests a hand on Seungyoun’s hair and strokes, once, like an _I know_ and a _me too_.


End file.
